Sobby Sobby, It's A Hobby
by I'm Not Wearing Any Pants
Summary: Or, fetish, actually. Did you get that yet? If not, I can write five hundred more tales of hysterical sobbing to nudge the building suspicion further along.


Ben 10 characters, nor do I claim to. Sobby sob, sobby sob sobby, with lots of tears, and crying. Also, freakish Mary Sues, that serve no other purpose than to make loud, ugly, never ending noises. Sobby, crying, shrieky, whimpering noises.

A random rice paddy farmer who lived in the Null Void walked out of his field, and began narrating.

"I love my job. I miss my son. He was taken by D'Void, or by extension, his Null Guardian pets, whom he loves with every fiber of his physical being, and is not controlling them to do his bidding, because they are animals, and very dull minded animals at that. Canonically, we have seen others get them to fly around like pack horses, and do stuff through intimidation and willful command, but only Doctor Anim, oh, I mean, D'Void, the Null King, the very hot beefcake man I would like to be boned by, does it best, because he loves them so unconditionally, and is not using them as mere tools, or weapons," he stated, in a dry monotone. "I miss my son very much. Look at my cool Chinese hat, and oddly Asian styled outfit, despite me being an alien, with utterly no contact with the Earthian inhabitants, since I have lived out my entire life within the Null Void. Do not dwell upon the logic here. There isn't any."

A rock fell. It hit him in the face to break the tediousness of endless narration based dialogue, since nothing else was happening to show anything interesting instead of boringly informing it.

"I wish to hug my son," said the sad farmer. "But he might be dead, or something. That makes me sad. Now I shall sob hysterically. That is how we show emotions here. That is the only thing I know how to show emotions." He burst into hysterical sobbing. "I had a brief period of narration in the show, therefore my character will be milked to death, so the author can prove they are in fact, the greatest writer who ever lived, and wrote for this fandom, ever." He bowed down in reverence. "All hail to the OP. Everyone else is scum beneath their feet." He bowed multiple times.

Another floating rock flew in. It smacked off the side of his head.

"Ow. Continuing on, I will now proceed to regurgitate basic info about D'Void, his Null Guardian army, his kormite drill, his drilling through the Null Void to get back to Earth, and so on, that everyone who has ever watched the episode this is loosely based on already knows, but we're going to repeat endlessly anyway, over and over again," stated the farmer, while rubbing his aching head. "Writing is hard."

A Null Guardian shrieked in the distance. The farmer looked up from his toiling in the fields, to see the Null Guardians carrying baskets, for which to fetch supplies.

"Oh no, they're reenacting bits of the episode's canon," the farmer gasped. "I had better look busy, or they might take me away to slave in the mines. That's a lot harder than working in the weird Chinese stereotype alien rice paddy fields." He bend down, and began to rake furiously. "No, wait...if I look like I'm working hard, they might consider taking me to the mines more than if I looked lazy. Or would they? Darn it! Now I've confused myself!"

The farmer was startled to see a diminutive and even more ugly Null Guardian creature when he turned around.

"Holy shit, what are you supposed to be?" he gasped.

The creature vomited up stinking bile. It shrieked in a sobbing, shrieking screaming noise. The farmer covered his aching ears.

"Oh, dear GOD, what is that horrid sound!" he yelled. He forced himself to look at the terrible thing before him. He opened his black eyes, and squinted. "You...you're that Mary Sue thing D'Void always has with him!"

The baby-thing barfed up vomit and sobbed-shrieked while flapping its cold, leathery wings.

"Expository tale of your stupid origin," said the farmer nervously. "I have no concept of showing versus telling."

The baby-thing shriek-sobbed hysterically at him.

"No, please! What do you want from me?! I have nothing! D'Void took everything, even before you came along and took everything else!" He fell to his knees, and trembled.

The thing puked-sobbed again. It wouldn't stop. The farmer began to sob himself, as the constant noise threatened to take away what little remained of his sanity.

"PLEASE, WHAT DO YOU WANT?" he screamed.

The baby-thing snarled. It made something akin to a revolting gurgle-purr.

"You...want...me...to," the farmer began. He lowered his hands from his ear holes. "Yes. I will...comply."

He slowly got up, and followed the creature.

The farmer followed the shrieking beast-baby to a clearing near a set of hobble-caves which various Null Void inhabitants inhabited once, before they all were forced to work in the mines. A group of children were playing. They paused, at the sound of a terrible shrieking sound.

"Oh no, it's that Mary Sue thing of D'Void's!" a child screamed in fright.

"It's come to torment us again!" a girl yelled.

"RUN AWAY!" yelled another.

They fled, but far too late. The shrieking monster-baby-thing was upon them in a heartbeat.

"OH, GOD, HELP US!" cried the children, as the Null-baby-thing began to slowly, and painfully devour them all.

The farmer man watched helplessly, entranced. "She's a good baby," he muttered. "You kids were the mean ones for being bullies to the poor little baby."

When the beast-baby had finished its horrific lunch, it shrieked-sobbed-vomited, and rolled onto its side. The farmer walked up and bent down, slowly. He began to rub it's stinking, mite infested, mold mottled leather skin coating.

"Good baby," he droned. "No one should be mean to you, ever. Poor baby. Nice baby. Everyone should be good to you, and pamper you, and...LOVE you, and coo over you while you sob-scream-vomit-fart, and for reasons unknown, attempt to appear cute, instead of horrifying, and downright offensively annoying."

The baby-thing sobbed and farted out a stream of putrid, unidentifiable liquid onto the ground. It then fled back to its eternally cursed attachment victim, D'Void. The farmer looked wistfully in the direction.

"I wish I had a good baby like that to love and adore," he whimpered. He began to walk to the citadel.

"Nice baby, precious baby," D'Void cooed to it, back at the citadel. "My baby. Who was holding you?" He squinted. "You smell like not my hysterical tears only." He walked out of the citadel. There, he saw the farmer, on a rock, miles away. "No one will get you. You're MY Mary Sue!"

"Baby!" cried the farmer. He walked for miles, until his Chinese wooden sandals had worn out. He took them off, and threw them away. "Must...have...BABY SUE!"

D'Void knew somebody else was coming after his Possession!Sue slash Pity!Sue slash God Mode Black Hole!Sue, and became enraged. "MY SUE! MY SUE! NO ONE ELSE'S! SHE WAS MADE FOR MEEEE!" he screamed. He broke a D'Void shaped hole in his own wall, then flew out to meet the farmer. "Stay back!"

"Give me that Sue, D'Void," the farmer groaned. He looked wild and unkempt. Like he'd smoked a hole basket of delicious crack. Or he'd gotten a taste of the side effects of having a wacky All Powerful Super Sue in the story. "Give me...baby!" he drooled.

D'Void held his ugly baby-thing protectively. "NEVER." He snarled. "You're not, and never will be, hot enough to have your own super powerful, canon fucking, OOC reality warping hellspawn Sue! Ha ha! You suck! You're ugly and dumb. You're...ugmb!"

The farmer broke down and sobbed hysterically. "WHYYYY!?" He just wasn't that handsome of a man. Or, alien. Sucks for him. The farmer stopped sobbing after two hours. He got back up. He stared at D'Void. "Oh well. Can I at least have my son back?"

"No," D'Void responded. He kicked the farmer in the face, and broke his neck. Then he began to cry hysterically, along with his precious baby-thing. The baby-thing also cried. Hysterically. You know.

This story was sad. We all cried hysterically, for hours. And if you didn't, you suck.

TEH END T_T


End file.
